


All this devotion

by Hagar



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Provides Comfort, Gen, Jace Wayland Is A Child of Abuse, Parabatai Feels, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/pseuds/Hagar
Summary: The worst part is, Jace can't regret believing that particular lie.





	All this devotion

Jace is still training when Alec returns to the Institute. _Still_ , not _already_ ; Alec knows Jace’s routine like he knows his own. Jace has likely been on the floor not an hour after the last Shadowhunter returned from the night’s patrol. Alec used to keep those hours, too, but lately he hasn’t been returning to the Institute when patrol is through, but going to Magnus’s, instead.

So Jace is _still_ training, and really should stop. Alec knows it by sight - Jace’s movement is more sluggish than it should be, betraying his exhaustion - and he knows it by the ache in his heart that isn’t really his. Shadowhunters need less sleep than Mundanes and Jace just might need less than that, angel blood and all, but he’s been pushing it: sleeping less and less, training more and more. Alec knows that, too. It’s something of a surprise; for a while there, while he lived at Magnus’s, Jace seemed to shake off the habits that Valentine had instilled in him all those years ago. Alec knows what changed, but - he genuinely thought old habits no longer held comfort for Jace, and it was rare for the two of them to be wrong about each other.

Alec doesn’t continue straight through the ops floor, towards the stairs leading to the dorms. Instead he veers off to the side, to the training area; he walks straight into the kata Jace is practicing, grabs his wrist and twists it, using Jace’s own momentum to knock the sword from his hand.

“The hell?” Jace demands.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do that,” Alec replies, unfazed, “if you weren’t dead on your feet. So knock it off.”

Jace eyes the sword laying on the floor. “I’m not _so_ tired that…”

“Jace,” Alec says, patient and worn. “ _Who_ are you talking to?”

Funny how they still need to remind each other that, sometimes.

“Fine,” Jace sighs.

“Wanna go find some breakfast?”

“Won’t that be your second breakfast? Besides,” Jace lifts a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his face, “I think I’m due a shower, first.”

“Fine. I’ll walk you.”

The look Jace gives him at that isn’t as incredulous as it once would’ve been. That’s new, too, if not as new as some other things: the Jace who emerged from Valentine’s ship and from Silent City’s dungeons isn’t the same Jace who’d grabbed Hodge and bolted off into the night soon as Alec had looked away.

It would’ve been strange to watch Jace wear his emotions openly, except Alec’s changed, too. It’s comforting that they’re in sync in this as in all things, but Alec’s worried, too. Something about Jace feels vulnerable, feels _frail_ , and Alec doesn’t feel that he knows enough to help if - when - Jace falls.

Alec is still standing by the bed when Jace emerges from the shower. “Did you even sleep?” he asks.

“I rested,” Jace says. He’s not even defensive, just - says it, plainly. That too is new.

“Nightmares?” Alec asks. He keeps his tone just as bland.

“Since Silent City,” Jace confirms. “It’s getting better, though.”

Alec knows Jace’s definition of _better_. It must show on his face or seep through the Bond, because Jace says: “Don’t even think about it.”

“Not think about what?”

“Staying nights at the Institute, again.”

“Jace -”

“We’re not ten anymore. And -” Jace hesitates. “You’re happier. With Magnus.”

He doesn’t say, _That helps more_. He doesn’t need to; Alec can feel it reverberating between them. It makes him sigh, then pull Jace in for a hug because the truth is, Jace means it: Alec’s happiness is the best thing he can do to help Jace. Reputation lies; Jace has always been selfless in the things that matter most.

Jace clings. Alec tightens his hold. He has enough to give, nowadays.

Jace’s eyes are shining with tears when finally they part. “You know what the worst part is?” he says, then reaches up to wipe away the tears that start falling.

Alec catches his hand to stop him from doing that, pulls it down gently. “What?” he asks.

“I should’ve known better then to believe him. I should’ve seen what he was doing, how he was manipulating me. If I had -”

“Jace -”

“The worst part,” Jace continues, firm though his voice is nearly trembling, “is that I can’t regret it, because believing I have demon blood - that was the most liberating thing.”

Silence sits between them, heavy with truth. Alec wants to say _That’s insane_ , and can’t. Wants and can’t, because he understand: when you’re already damned, there’s no further you can fall. Demon blood, that’s as low as it gets - or so Jace must’ve believed at the time, enough to stop _trying,_ enough to stop struggling for an idea of perfection and let himself _be_ , instead.

It’s the riddle Alec’s been staring at: how Jace could’ve emerged from that nightmare of a week more secure in his own skin than he’s ever been, focused on what he wants rather than what other want from him. Now that Alec has the answer he hates it, and hates how it adds to Jace’s burden as well.

Jace opens his mouth as if to explain; then stops, and says nothing.

“I get it,” Alec says into the silence. 

Jace’s attempt at a smile is a total failure. “Messed up, right?”

“That’s not your fault, either. And even if it were, I don’t care.”

Jace turns his head down, looks away. He tugs the hand Alec’s still holding but the attempt to get it free is half-hearted at most, and fails. Jace isn’t trying to get away, not really, but he’s probably tapped out for talking about things. 

Alec doesn’t try to pull Jace in for another hug; odds are Jace is tapped out for that too, and besides, he’ll need tissues in a second - he’s crying hard enough his nose is running. So instead, Alec leans forward and touches his forehead to Jace’s temple. 

Jace turns his face towards him, just a little; his shoulders drop, too, not much but enough.

They both huff out simultaneously when they realize their breath is in synch. That’s when Alec knows that Jace will be all right, as much as he can be. He squeezes Jace’s hand gently, and pulls back.

“I think I’ll skip breakfast,” Jace says. And if he doesn’t quite meet Alec’s eyes, then he doesn’t tense again, either.

“There’ll still be food in the kitchen later,” Alec replies neutrally. He’s tempted to lean in again, to squeeze Jace’s hand again, but he can _feel_ Jace pulling his defenses back up and he knows Jace needs them if he is to sleep at all. Jace must sense his hesitation, from the way he glances at Alec from the corner of his eyes. There’s something like a smile in that look, and it makes Alec feel a little bit better. He still says, “If I see you training again before you slept…”

“I’ll sleep. Now stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

This time there’s a real smile tugging at the corners of Jace’s mouth. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

It’s a deliberate serve. Alec doesn’t leave it unanswered. “Yeah. My parabatai.”

“Lucky me.”

Alec lets himself smile as he replies: “Lucky us both.”


End file.
